The Destruction of War
by CruelEternity
Summary: "Natalya's eyes became filled with rage, 'You are not the same man Alfred! What happened to you' His eyes lit up in the candle lit room, 'War changes people, dear.'" War time has risen up between countries once more. Emotions kept down have boiled over and now, no one is safe. RomanoxBelarus will show up. Human names. Character death(s).


_Warning: Character death. Don't like, don't read._

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The woman in the dress curtsied gracefully and politely, her blonde head rose up at the American. Her twilight blue eyes were locked with his as she spoke neither roughly nor ladylike. Her words were sincere to the end, even through that Russian accent of hers, "Natalya Arlovskaya of the Belarusian army at your service." She rose up and without breaking the eye contact between the two of them, drew a knife from behind her that was hidden in the snow white sash that tied her apron to her dress in a delicate bow. She pointed it at him slowly with a growing grin forming on her rosy pink lips, "at a price, of course, and not a small one either. Do I make myself clear?" Her voice was frighteningly evil the entire time she spoke, and she blinked not once, perhaps afraid that breaking eye contact would result in her death.

However, the blonde man was not fazed in the slightest, and he advanced on her slowly.

When she had her back pressed against a wall, standing upright with her arm, and so her knife, at down at her side, he leaned in past her head. She could feel his warm breath against her neck that sent shivers down her spine. She stared straight ahead without making a single move against him to protect herself. He whispered into her ear slowly and seductively, "crystal, my dear Natalya. Chancellor Palpatine himself could not have been clearer. I suspected such a thing, though. You live up to your _reputation,_ after all."

She felt her breath slow and ordered herself to get her control and composure back. How dare another man who was not her brother send such feelings through her.

He didn't stop there though. He did not hear of her silent pleas for him to step back at least one step. His right had risen up from seemingly nowhere and went by the other side of her head and pressed against the wall so that he was leaning over her. His left hand occupied itself by slowly sliding down the sleeve of her right arm. He did not stop his hand's motion until it reached her hand. He caressed it gently before gripping her wrist tightly. She gasped out of surprise and dropped her knife carelessly. It landed with a clatter, and she swore roughly at herself.

This man was a devil. If he were a woman, she'd have thought him a succubus with his powers of seduction, but seeing as he wasn't, she could not think that he was.

Her moment of weakness hadn't gone unnoticed by the American man though, and he unhanded her with a laugh. Her eyes turned into a glare that was directed towards him. How could he keep such an act up even through his laughs? His eyes lit up with nothing more than a gallon of amusement that could've been brought with perhaps a beer. Her glare only deepened as the hatred and anger that she'd built up over many years seeped from her darkening eyes.

He parted his lips and she could've sworn he was teasing her with his voice now, "It's so easy to excite women like you."

She hissed through gritted teeth, "You flatter yourself."

His left eyebrow arched, "Do I? I feel that perhaps you're underestimating me. You aren't underestimating me, right?"

Natalya hated him now. She hated her previous master as well. Men. Why were they such bastards that handed women over to others as if it meant nothing? Her last master had been much similar to this one, but gave in to her demands quickly. They looked similar too, but the other man had a strong English accent and eyebrows that couldn't be forgotten easily.

She spat at the floor in front of him as an insult before she spoke again, her voice now edged with her anger, "Of course not, Master."

The American paid no mind to the insult he was given by her, "Oh my. It seems Arthur wasn't lying to me when he said you didn't give in easily. I'll have to change that now, won't I? I'll tell you now in case you haven't heard the rumors; I'm just as stubborn as you." Natalya had heard the rumors though, and she had heard of his endless stubbornness. The rumors said that even his own family didn't bother with him anymore, it was of no point.

He suddenly changed though, before she could respond. He laughed loudly and obnoxiously, "Well, you serve me now, so busying yourself with rumors will do you no good." He pulled a gun from his belt, "Or you'll meet an unfortunate end."

The woman spat again and spoke without gritting her teeth, "I don't believe you'd do it."

The American looked at another man who was in the room, "Bring in another one of the war prisoners."

The man left and American turned his face back to the Belarusian, "You've been granted a great privilege. Not all war criminals are granted the abilities to be servants."

The man returned dragging in an albino man. His hands were chained behind his back, and they had left clear cuts from all the struggling he must've done in them at one point. His red eyes were dull, and his assumingly snow white hair was now matted with disgusting dirt and ash from being locked up in a prison cell for so long.

The woman recognized this man as someone who fought on their side of the army. He used to be arrogant and cocky, one could even say that he was an ass with how full of his own abilities he was, but it appeared that time as a prisoner of war had broken his soul and body. He looked weak, and he was covered in wounds. The skill he had once claimed to have clearly did not keep him safe.

The American pointed his gun at the prisoner and pulled the metal trigger without giving anyone in the room a single warning. The bullet cut cleanly through the skin that protected his skull in his forehead. Blood now trickled out from the hole that went all the way through his brain and out the other side of his head.

The albino collapsed instantly, and the American man grinned widely and cruelly, "I'm not afraid to harm you as I've harmed him."

Natalya's eyes became filled with rage, "You are not the same man Alfred! What happened to you?" His eyes lit up in the candle lit room, "War changes people, dear."

She was shaking with rage and she ran towards the American murderer with the heels of her boots clacking loudly against the creaking wooden floor of the room. She had begun to reach down to draw a knife when someone came up behind her and grabbed her wrists, not only preventing her from grabbing her knife, but also keeping her from moving. She struggled and snarled aggressively, trying to get the man behind her to release her.

Her master in front of her was still grinning just as widely and cruelly as he was when he shot the man. His voice didn't shake, and he spoke with a strong voice to the man holding Natalya, "Good job, Matthew. Handcuff her hands together behind her back."

The Canadian brother of Alfred obeyed and the cold metal of the handcuffs connected with her skin. She bit her bottom lip when she heard the clack of the handcuffs locking themselves around her wrists. She wasn't getting away easily now.

When Matthew tightened the handcuffs so that they pressed against her wrists painful and showed in Natalya's face, the American became satisfied.

It wasn't the end of the torture he had in mind for her though, "Now go and hang her by those handcuffs on the wall over there." He pointed to his right. There was a large and thick nail in the wall. Dried crimson colored blood also coated the wall and the nail, suggesting that he'd done this sort of torture before.

She fought back the other blonde man's attempts at dragging her by keeping her boots firmly into the ground. This irritated the used-to-be-cheerful American, and he helped his brother by picking her up by her feet and carrying her to the spot he had indicated earlier.

The woman fought and did her best to squirm, hoping that they'd drop her and she'd be able to go free whether her handcuffs were on or off.

It didn't happen though, and the got her hanging on the wall by the handcuffs around her wrists. They began to dig into her skin as she swung her legs around angrily.

She shouted insults at them in both her own Belarusian language and her brother's language, Russian. They didn't react to her insults at all though.

Alfred sat down in one of the chairs and kept his darkened blue eyes on Natalya. He was very clearly amused by how she reacted to being chained up in the way that she was. He was wearing a large black hoodie that went a bit past his butt, and he wore dark navy blue jeans. He was wearing black sneakers as well. While his taste in clothes hadn't changed very much, he was noticeably wearing darker colors.

Matthew, on the other hand, looked absolutely disgusted by what was going on. He dressed very similarly to his brother, and it didn't seem like something he'd normally wear. He was probably forced into the clothes. His blue eyes were dark and dull. They showed almost no will to live.

He stood beside his American brother with his head hanging down. He looked at the floor rather than at the woman who was being treated so badly, even for a prisoner of war. Both he and Natalya would've preferred it if the American man had just thrown her into a cell with the rest of the prisoners.

Natalya absolutely hated being traded off from person to person as a servant who was subjected to different sorts of torture day in and day out. She saw things she'd rather have not seen. Death was normal. Death in war was even more normal. It was the way they murdered these people as if they were animals who didn't have feelings or souls or families to return to.

The Canadian was very polite, Natalya noticed, and could probably be easily manipulated. When he had seen enough of Natalya's nonstop kicking and swearing, which caused the handcuffs to really dig deep into her skin deep, he didn't just leave, he asked if he could leave.

His voice was quiet, and it was very clear that he wasn't cut out for war, "May I please leave?"

Alfred turned to look at his younger brother, "It depends. Where are you leaving to?"

His voice didn't change at all. It remained quiet, so close to being a whisper, as he replied to his brother, "I'm going to get food…" Matthew's voice had trailed off near the end.

Natalya recognized that he didn't want food. He only wanted to get away from this immoral scene that was occurring before his very eyes.

His brother gave him the permission he wanted, and he was allowed to leave. He walked quickly out of the room, his steps silent. Though, they could hear his footsteps slamming on the floor outside the room as he ran from it quickly.

The older male turned his head back towards the blonde who was still hanging on the wall. He grinned as she threw more insults in his direction. He was getting a bit bored of them though. He walked up to her and taped her mouth closed.

She made a screaming noise from behind the tape, and he didn't like that he could still hear her. He grabbed a stapler from a nearby mahogany desk that was covered with many sheets of paper. He looked at her with cold eyes, "Stop your screams, or I'll staple your mouth shut."

She gave him glares that could kill as she silenced herself.

He pulled out his gun from his belt for the second time that day and grinned wider, "Now then, where were we?"

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_Hey! I'm writing yet **another** fanfiction! This one is going to be RomanoxBelarus LATER in the story. I know it seems a lot like an AmericaxBelarus fanfiction right now, but don't worry, it isn't~_


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